Newton’s Fire. Will Adams

time, that she is the one.’

      ‘This is the time,’ said Thaddeus. ‘She is the one. She’s the Esther for our age.’

      ‘It’s not me you need to convince, Reverend. It’s her. And when you’ve convinced her, you’re going to need to fly up to Washington to be with her and keep her strong, or her advisors will talk her out of it again.’

      ‘I can’t. I have duties here. My congregation.’

      Same as it ever was, sighed Croke. All in until he actually had to do something. ‘I remember the Book of Esther,’ he said. ‘My mother used to read it to me at bedtime. There was a Thaddeus in it, wasn’t there? That old Jew who refused to bow to the prince, the one who sparked all the trouble.’

      ‘His name was Mordecai.’

      ‘Mordecai, Thaddeus. I knew it was something like that.’ He shifted his phone to his other ear. ‘And don’t I recall that this Mordecai-Thaddeus guy had another important role in the story? Wasn’t he was the one who, when Esther got scared, convinced her that God had made her queen precisely for that moment, that she needed to do His will whatever the consequences?’

      Silence as Thaddeus digested this. ‘You don’t know her very well, do you,’ he said. ‘She isn’t the kind of person you can give orders to.’

      ‘I’m not suggesting you give her orders. I’m suggesting that you tell her what we’re on the brink of, then see how she responds.’

      ‘How do you expect her to respond?’

      ‘I think she’ll ask what she can do to help,’ said Croke. ‘And when she does, this is what you’re going to tell her.’

      SEVEN

      I

      The earthquake had torn fissures in many of Jerusalem’s streets, yet the resultant congestion wasn’t as bad as it might have been, for tourists had cancelled their bookings by the planeload, spooked by the threat of aftershocks, food shortages and riots, by reports of sewage on the streets and the first whispers of contagious diseases.

      A bus took Avram from Jaffa Gate to King George. From there he had to walk. He hurried up Strauss into the ultra-Orthodox quarter of Mea Shearim. The streets here were strewn with torn fly-posters and other litter, and there was graffiti everywhere. The squalor dismayed him, as it always did, for it reflected so poorly on the devout, and gave unnecessary fuel to those who mocked the Haredim as all prayer and no fasting.

      He paused outside a grocer’s, picked up a lemon, glanced back. Only men in view, all of them dressed in the distinctive black frock coats and broad-brimmed hats of the ultra-Orthodox. This wasn’t his favourite quarter of Jerusalem, sure, but it made it child’s play to check for a tail.

      He turned right at Yesheskel. The earthquake had sheared the front off an apartment building, leaving the street narrowed by skips and scaffolding. He entered the religious bookshop to find Shlomo himself behind the counter. He looked startled to see Avram, but he covered it quickly. ‘Yes?’ Shlomo asked. ‘May I help.’

      ‘My great-nephew’s bar mitzvah is next week,’ said Avram. ‘I’m looking for something special.’

      ‘We keep our special stock in the back.’ The bookseller handed over to an assistant, a plump and soft young man, beard wispy as undergrowth after a drought. Then he led Avram back to his office, where they greeted each other more warmly. ‘This must be important,’ said Shlomo pointedly. ‘You wouldn’t have come here otherwise.’

      ‘It’s time,’ said Avram.

      Shlomo nodded. ‘And you decided this yourself, did you? Without consulting me or my men?’

      ‘The Lord decided, praise His Name,’ said Avram. ‘It’s tomorrow night. We need to start preparing now.’

      ‘Tomorrow night? Are you crazy? Haven’t you seen the extra soldiers they’ve brought in?’

      ‘They’re guarding the perimeter,’ said Avram. ‘We’ll be attacking from inside the perimeter.’

      ‘And the Waqf? They’ve doubled their numbers too.’

      ‘The Waqf!’ mocked Avram. ‘Old men with sticks.’

      ‘And the heifer?’ asked Shlomo.

      The question blindsided Avram. With everything else going on, he’d forgotten about the heifer. But he didn’t let it show. ‘What about her?’

      ‘You have her?’

      ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘How could we do this otherwise?’

      Shlomo looked stunned. ‘You never said.’

      ‘No. Because last time we got anywhere close, we found her one morning with her throat slit. So this time I kept my mouth shut. Can you blame me?’

      ‘How old?’

      ‘Her third birthday was three weeks ago,’ he said. ‘The day of the earthquake. The hour of the earthquake.’

      ‘Then it is true,’ said Shlomo, awed. ‘It is time.’

      ‘What have I been telling you?’

      ‘And the sacrifice? When do we do it?’

      ‘Tonight.’

      ‘No,’ said Shlomo. ‘I can’t get my men together that soon.’

      ‘Your men?’

      ‘Of course. A perfect red heifer. The first for two thousand years. And you expect us not to be there?’

      ‘I’m afraid there isn’t time for—’

      ‘Then we make time. For this, we make time. First thing tomorrow morning. I can have them ready by then. Where is she?’

      ‘Near Megiddo,’ said Avram. ‘But I—’

      ‘There’s a car park by the archaeological site. We’ll meet you there. Seven o’clock tomorrow morning.’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘Seven o’clock.’ He got to his feet, the meeting over. ‘And then tomorrow night we’ll do this thing, just as we’ve planned. Tomorrow night, we take the Mount back for Israel and the Lord.’

      II

      ‘What happened to the Alfa?’ asked Luke, climbing in passenger side of a red BMW convertible. ‘I thought you’d never sell that beast.’

      ‘And I never will,’ said Pelham, belting himself in. ‘She’s in the shop. Some bastard telephone pole leapt out in front of us, fucked her bonnet right up.’

      ‘There ought to be a law.’

      ‘There is, apparently. But I’m the one it holds liable, would you believe? One rule for us, another for telephone poles.’ He turned on the ignition, made to lower the roof.

      ‘You couldn’t leave that up for the moment, could you?’ asked Luke.

      ‘Sure,’ said Pelham. He glanced quizzically at him. ‘Why?’

      ‘There are some bikers out looking for me. And the police.’

      ‘The police?’

      ‘It’s nothing to make you ashamed of me. I swear it isn’t.’

      ‘Of course not, mate. I know you better than that.’

      Luke nodded. After the day he’d had, such a simple vote of confidence moved him more than he could say. ‘If the police do stop us, just tell them I turned